


Sex Hair

by dollylux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Bottom Sam, Coda, Dirty Talk, Episode s08e20: Pac-Man Fever, First Time, Hair Kink, Hair-pulling, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Rimming, Season/Series 08, Sick Sam Winchester, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/pseuds/dollylux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to the episode “Pac-Man Fever” in which we learn how Sammy got crazy sex hair in the first scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex Hair

Dean does not sit still and wait very well. He doesn’t really sit still at all. Even when he’s sitting, he’s moving, he’s sliding his hands over his thighs or the handle of his gun or he’s chewing on his lip or rubbing a hand over his mouth. So it goes without saying that he’s not good at just sitting and watching Sam suffer. He’s terrible at it. Horrible. Even when he wants to leave him alone, to let him have some peace in his suffering, he just can’t fucking help it. He has to ask questions, has to shove a sandwich at him, has to keep it just this side of too warm in the room so that Sam can’t help but sleep. He’s good at suffering in silence but not when it’s Sam’s suffering.

“Just fucking lay down, Sammy. Old ladies can do it, babies can do it. You saved the world all by yourself, you can fucking lay down and sleep for a few hours. You hear me?” He’s using his gruff voice, his no-nonsense Dad voice, the one that’s gotten deeper and deeper over the years since Dad died, one that he’s maybe adopted to keep his father’s voice alive between them. 

Sam grunts, that long, surprisingly loud sound that he does all the time and finally sighs. Dean’s shoulders immediately relax a little because he knows the sound of Sam giving in. He watches in tense silence as Sam stretches his long body out on his bed, legs left bare in his boxer briefs slipping under the three blankets Dean had piled on. Dean leans over and starts to pull the blankets up as Sam turns on his side but Sam shoves his hands away.

“Dude. I can pull my own blankets up. I’m not an invalid.” He demonstrates by doing just that, dragging the blankets until they’re over his shoulders and tucked right around his neck, all of him missing under layers of cotton except for the wilderness of his hair and his tired eyes. Dean sinks down onto the bed, sitting just beside him and staring down at him in silence until Sam dares to look up at him with weary eyes. “Dean. Are you gonna watch me sleep or somethin’?”

“Sammy.” It’s almost a plea when it makes it out of his throat and he didn’t mean for it to sound that way. It was supposed to be growly and I’m-sick-of-your-bitchiness but it comes out soft, hurting. Dean’s eyes are soft and there are so many lines around his eyes now and who the fuck would have thought he would have lived long enough to earn them?

Sam doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. He just closes his eyes and sighs, relaxing minutely into the bed. Dean just sits there beside him, feeling his warmth so close by, listening to the sound of his breaths, uneven and slightly rattling, labored. He’s never dealt well with Sam even having a goddamn cold. His eyes burn at the very edges and he reaches over, the tips of his fingers trembling the slightest bit before they rest just barely on top of Sam’s head. He waits just there, breath held, eyes on his brother and Sam just shifts a little closer, the covers moving so that Dean can see more of his face. Sam makes the tiniest sound, one of consent, of asking. Please don’t stop, Dean, is what Dean hears.

He sinks his fingers into Sam’s hair and he closes his eyes, too, drawing a huge breath into his lungs and holding it until it burns. He exhales, slow and long and he brushes Sam’s hair back from his face, the smooth edges of his nails stroking and scritching over Sam’s scalp. He lets his thumb graze over Sam’s eyebrow and across his temple and he has to open his eyes then, has to look over at him, memorize him with all his senses right now. Dean is a master of savoring, of collecting memories. He never knows when they’ll be all he has.

“I didn’t save the world by myself.” The words are nearly a whisper, spoken into the covers but Dean hears them and smiles.

“You gotta argue with me all the time, bitch?” He moves then, while he’s talking and after, lifting up the covers before he slides in against Sam. They’re facing each other now and Sam’s eyes flutter open just barely, the shadows dark around them, making him seem even more pale than he already is, making the green stand out bright in his eyes. Dean doesn’t stop petting him, doesn’t break eye contact. He doesn’t know when he got this close, when their foreheads became pressed together and he just takes a big intake of air through his nose, breathing in all that warm breath Sam is exhaling, breathing in the faint smell of Sam’s sweat, of his dirty skin, his unbrushed teeth. All of it, every layer of smell is precious to him. Comfort.

“Wanna make you feel better, Sammy. Wish there was somethin’ I could do for you.” They’re closer even still now, Sam’s impossibly long legs parting and Dean is now between them, one of Sam’s thighs draped over his hip and they lock together just like it seems like they should, like he always imagined they would. They’ve always been close but this is closer than he even knew he could ever be. He feels the delicate point of Sam’s nose against his own and his hands tighten gently in Sam’s hair. It’s right here between them now, everything. It’s so close and Dean’s holding his breath, waiting on Sam’s permission.

Sam tugs Dean closer with the leg he has draped over his body, his arms fitting themselves around Dean, pushing between his ribs and the mattress to get around him completely. Sam’s mouth parts just over his and Dean takes that as all the permission in the world as he kisses Sam’s sleepy mouth, his tongue slipping right in like he owns the place. Sam’s fingers press in hard against his ribs, digging in and bruising and he gasps into his mouth, making such a hungry little sound that it makes Dean dizzy. He strokes Sam’s hair back, noting that with each small tug he gives, Sam whimpers. When Sam tries to move, tries to shift and work himself closer, Dean stops him, rolls them over until Sam is spread out under him, big and solid and immovable but still Dean’s baby brother. Still his little brother. No amount of muscle or height or years on any level of existence will change that.

“Shh, just be still. Let me, Sammy. God, just let me make you feel good, just for a minute.” Dean presses a final kiss to Sam’s now sucked-pink mouth and he lifts up just enough to work Sam’s shirt over his head and when he starts to kiss and suck at Sam’s neck he feels him harden against him, feels the insistent throb of his dick caught between them and he reaches down shyly, letting his fingers trail over it. Sam’s head pushes back hard against the pillows and he groans, the back of his hand coming up to cover his eyes.

“How’sat feel? Hm? Want me to suck on it, Sammy? Make you feel good? Tell me, baby boy. Just tell me and I’ll do it.” 

Sam answers by curling a hand at the back of Dean’s head and pushing him down and Dean follows in a sudden moment of obedience, biting his way down Sam’s body, licking at the hairs leading down to his solid belly and sucking at his belly button, pushing his tongue into it just to test. He’s rewarded with Sam crying out, a surprisingly sharp, high sound and he just goes fucking crazy with it then, tongue-fucking his navel while he squeezes at Sam’s dick. Sam just goes apeshit with it, hips flying up off the bed and hands gripped pleadingly at Dean’s head, begging him to please stop or please don’t stop and Dean only lifts up when he’s afraid that Sam is going to come. Their eyes meet, Dean from down Sam’s body and Sam, tearful and shaking with hunger, pillowed on softness. Dean curls his fingers into the elastic of Sam’s underwear and jerks them down decisively.

“Gonna fuck you, Sammy. Gotta get up inside of you. Just let me. Okay? God, you just gotta let me...” He throws Sam’s underwear who the fuck cares where and wraps his mouth around Sam’s cock and is rewarded with the hot shock of Sam’s orgasm right over his fucking tongue, the second he closes his lips in a tight seal. He goes with it, hand coming up to jerk him off hard at the base, his other hand rubbing over Sam’s balls, thumb pressing dry and insistent at Sam’s hole. Sam is unbelievably loud when he comes, the sounds echoing off the concrete walls and sinking into Dean’s skin as he just swallows him down, nurses on that dick drop by drop. He only pulls off when he starts hearing Sam whine, when those hands are pulling at the sides of his face.

“Dean. Dean, s-stop. God, please.” 

Dean stares up at Sam, pupils blown and Sam looks exhausted, looks sated and drained and fuck if that doesn’t make Dean almost come right then. He lets go of Sam’s dick, letting it slap wet and spent back on Sam’s belly and he shoves the covers back, pushing Sam’s long fucking legs up toward his chest. “Hold your legs up. C’mon, Sammy, hold onto ‘em.”

Sam does even though his arms are shaking and Dean curls down at the foot of the bed, his hands spread wide on Sam’s ass, tugging his cheeks apart to stare at that hole that sure as fuck looks virginal. He growls then, a low, dangerous sound and he has to reach down and squeeze his own dick when he sees how his hole twitches at the sound. He presses his thumbs to either side of it, pulling it apart and spitting the wad of saliva he has gathered in his mouth, hitting it spot on and watching it slide and drip down, caught in the tiny hairs around Sam’s asshole. Dean dives in then, shoving his tongue right inside of him, forcing his way in so he can fuck hard with the tip. Sam’s grabbing his head again, forcing Dean’s face right up into his balls and his perineum and his spread ass. 

“Tell me you got some lotion in your nightstand. Get it for me. Now.” Dean rubs at Sam’s hole, working at it with the tips of his fingers and spreading his spit around, digging at it to make it raw and tender and fuck, it’s so fucking pink.

Sam stops whimpering just long enough to grab the little tube of lotion that Dean knew he had and Dean spreads some lightning fast over his fingers, forcing two of them up inside of Sam and spreading them out, hard and unforgiving. He slides up Sam’s body, grabbing those legs and wrapping them around himself again and he kisses Sam hard, kind of fucking loving the slight hesitation Sam has about tasting himself.

“Don’t tell me you don’t love the taste of your dirty little hole. Don’t tell me you don’t love it because I fucking love it. God, Sammy, gonna fuck you so good. Just tell me you want it. Please, just tell me, okay?” Dean’s got three fingers in him now, curled up and fucking into him, hard and relentless. Sam responds by pulling at Dean’s shirt, shoving at his sweatpants with his feet. Dean’s shirt is hanging off of one arm where he refuses to take his fingers out of Sam’s ass. He shoves up hard and keeps his hand there and Sam gasps, his eyes wide and staring up at Dean. “Tell me.”

“Y-yes. Dean, yes, of course. Of course I want it, please, just. Just do it. Fuck, just do it.” 

Dean reaches down to retrieve the lotion again with his free hand, his forehead braced on Sam’s so he can look down the lines of their body and see what he’s doing. He squeezes some more lotion out awkwardly onto his palm and slicks up his dick, finally pulling his fingers out and tossing his shirt away and he rubs the head of his dick against Sam’s slightly tender ass, slapping against it firmly while he kisses his mouth again.

“Gonna do you raw. We could never do it any other way, could we?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just grips his dick hard and pushes, going slow but unstopping as he pushes his way in inch by inch. Sam lets out a sharp gasp when Dean sinks in the rest of the way, growling possessively as he buries up into him. He stares down into Sam’s eyes, his tired, beautiful eyes and he slides his hands into Sam’s hair, gripping firmly as he kisses at his mouth.

“Take a minute, Sammy, ‘s okay. So fucking hot, little brother. Lettin’ me have this.” 

He just kisses Sam, drinking down the little sounds of him getting use to it, relaxing around Dean’s dick. Dean sinks down fully on top of Sam, angling his hips and pushing up and Sam lets out a relieved, almost dreamy sounding sigh. “Dean, yeah,” he says softly, his legs spreading even wider. “Just stay right there.”

Dean plants his knees and tenses his ass and works down into Sam, grinding down inside of him and rubbing at Sam’s prostate for a minute. He doesn’t let go of his grip on Sam’s hair, just fucking holds onto it to keep his leverage as he starts to gentle pound into him, just a lift and drop of his weight on top of him. The lotion is drying quickly and is not exactly ideal for this and so he knows Sam is starting to feel the pinch of it, the ache of the friction but he knows that Sam’s getting off on the little bit of pain just as much as he is. They are brothers, after all.

Dean presses his mouth to Sam’s forehead, his eyes squeezed closed when he starts to fuck him in earnest, the old boxsprings squeaking under their weight and the power of his hips, the rhythm of their skin smacking reverberating around the room. He feels Sam’s hands on his body, all over his back, bruising in their grip. He moans when those hands find his ass and pull him in deeper and that’s when Dean makes the run for home base, fucking him fiercely, using every bit of skill he’s ever had to make this so good for Sam. “You know you’re mine, Sammy. I know you do. I don’t ever need to tell you that. God, just let me take care of you. Baby boy.” He squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, hissing when he feels Sam’s insides start to contract around him. He renews his grip on Sam’s hair, panting against his skin. Sam starts to strip his own dick then, crying out over and over again as he comes, such a beautiful fucking sound to Dean’s ears. 

He barely has time to press his forehead to Sam’s again, his nose and his eyes burning with stupid, unavoidable emotion as he plants his hips and pushes as deep inside of Sam’s body as he can get to come right there, right in the place he’s just created only for himself. He shakes and jerks on him and in him, letting out full-throated moans as he collapses down against him. They stay just there for what feels like days, trembling against each other, breathless and grasping and kissing until they finally still. Dean’s hands soften in Sam’s hair little by little until he lets go, leaving it wild and impossible and he smiles against Sam’s lips.

“Will you sleep now?”

Sam’s eyes are closed and he gets as far as a tiny smile before he’s out, pulled down by exhaustion. Dean doesn’t move, just stays right where he is, head tucking down between Sam’s neck and his shoulder so he can feel each beat of Sam’s heart. He says a quiet thank you to each one.


End file.
